


Old Ghosts

by occasional_boy_reporter



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Coping, Mild Language, halloween fic, the start of friendship?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 14:36:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12608808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasional_boy_reporter/pseuds/occasional_boy_reporter
Summary: Eris has problems. Cayde would like to pretend his are different.





	Old Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> This sat on my computer through a couple Festivals of the Lost. We didn't get one for 2017, so have this fic?  
> Set shortly before Taken King in Destiny 1
> 
>  
> 
> [visit me on tumblr? :D](https://fox-fic-and-ink.tumblr.com/)

   Cayde-6, being some undefinable combination of man and machine, doesn’t need sleep quite as much as some of the other Tower residents. Cayde-6, also being some horrifying combination of fragmented data and jumbled memories, achieves even less sleep than he needs.  In fact, a large part of the Exo’s downtime not spent with company or in general plotting and execution of hijinks tends to involve staring at walls and begging the universe to send some distraction or other while he sits in bed surrounded by the glow of every light in the room in an attempt to banish the shadowy tendrils that sometimes haunt the corners of his mind.

   Ya know. The usual weeknight. 

   Luckily, disembodied tentacles are swept to the backburner when the Ghost nestled on Cayde’s pillow stirs with a startled chirp. A central eye flickers as he rouses from his own version of sleep and his tone would be scathing if he were a bit more alert. As is, Cayde’s partner is just sort of adorably disgruntled on his fluffy perch. “Ugh. Sun and stars! Incoming message. From Ikora.”

   The Exo reaches for his bedside table to silence both the static generator and the radio playing some late-night City station. The silence is only gut-wrenching for a second.

   “Ikora!” Cayde pours on the roguish charm the second Ghost finishes patching the Warlock through. “Calling to keep me company in the dead of night? How thoughtful.”

   “No, Cayde.” Ikora’s got her business voice on which means she completely glosses over the incredibly winning tone Cayde’s been perfecting over the course of a long life. “We have a situation in the barracks.”

   “Ah!” Here Cayde clicks disapprovingly. “I keep telling those Guardians no pillow fights after 2200.”

   The barest of sighs, hardly stronger than any other exhale, is Cayde’s only reward. Though his Ghost affects a glare as well so the joke isn’t entirely wasted.

   “I’ve received a report from one of my Warlocks,” Ikora continues. “Eris Morn is wandering the halls again.”

   This time Cayde sighs and it’s not just for theatrics. He picks at his knee, catches the worn fabric of his lounge pants between thumb and forefinger, and idly tries to recall if he’s attempted to count the threads in a square inch…likely so…then tries to remember if the attempt was successful. “I’m assuming you called because you’d like for me to go take care of that.”

   “I cannot leave the Hall, Cayde,” Ikora states factually. Though her tone suggests she’s actually managed to dodge a bullet by landing the late shift this particular night and she knows it.

   “Did you call Zavala?” The Exo asks, not quite ready to abandon his night of idle counting and visually tracing age-old shapes in the painted, concrete wall opposite his bed. It makes for a crappy night but it’s _his_ night. “He loves being pestered from a sound sleep to deal with stuff. I mean, he’s an _Awoken._ ”

   A stony silence meets what is, admittedly, one of Cayde’s laziest jokes ever. Eventually, Ikora finds her tongue and the edges seem to be sharpening the longer the Exo drags this out. “We both know you were not resting.”

   “That’s subjective.”

   “Cayde, I’m out of time to quibble. Please see that Eris makes it back to her room without incident.”

   Audio ends abruptly and Cayde’s Ghost blinks.

   “How do you like that?” The Hunter shakes his head. “Not so much as a ‘please.’ It’s like Ikora thinks I’ve got nothing better to do. Rude!”

   Cocking his head, Cayde considers the blank expanse of wall beyond his metal toes. Maybe he could shuffle around the furniture and stare at the South wall for a while. Slowly, the Hunter Vanguard’s Ghost slides into Cayde’s view. The fore shell rotates a quarter turn clockwise and then counterclockwise, silently waiting. Judging.

   The Exo’s brow plate twitches. He stares a little harder at the space beyond his toes in willful obstinacy. A moment longer of pretending not to notice the Ghost waiting him out and then Cayde growls as he practically vaults from his bed and snags the closest boot. “Fine, fine! Let’s go hunting for a Hunter.”

   In the future, Cayde will remember to be more specific in his requests to the universe.

 <>

   It doesn’t take much effort to remember Eris Morn’s floor, after all, this is not the first time Cayde has been tasked with tracking the woman. Elevator doors glide back to let the Exo depart. When they close behind him, they take with them the brighter light of the lift and leave Cayde in the dim running lights meant only to guide the late-night arrivals back to their bunks. With a sigh, he sets off in the direction of Eris’ room and is both pleased and annoyed when he stumbles upon someone else in the half-dark hall. The Awoken male jumps, startled by Cayde’s proximity, and yellow eyes burn out from the pale gray flesh of a face that’s probably a dusty blue in proper lighting. There’s a moment as the Awoken takes in Cayde’s sweat pants and the oversized shirt with attached hood before glowing eyes flick repeatedly between the Exo’s face and long-toed boots trying to reconcile all the pieces of a puzzle the Guardian clearly wasn’t expecting.

   “What’s the matter, Warlock?” Cayde nods at the long robes and glowing bond, “Never seen a Vanguard in his jammies?”

   The Warlock gapes for a moment before shaking his head and presenting a much more formal front. Even goes for the half-formal head nod. Though Ikora probably would have gotten a proper nod if she were in Cayde’s boots right now. _Metaphorically_ in his boots…not literally, because she has considerably smaller feet…Cayde actually knows this because-

   “Sir,” the Warlock begins, pausing Cayde’s mental tangent, “she’s been standing there for a very long time. I think she may be sleepwalking. It’s…honestly freaking me out a little.”

   A quick glance in the direction the Awoken indicates reveals the target. Eris stands motionless and alone- a shock of pale white like a blade cutting the otherwise dark hall. She hasn’t wandered very far from her door at all this time. Cayde hums in the back of his throat and nods figuring the Warlock might at least find comfort in Cayde’s very official sounding hum. “You go and rest up. I’ll take care of Little Miss Creepy.”

   The Warlock hesitates, probably rooted by the thought that he’ll miss out on whatever secret keeps the intimidating Eris Morn poised like a statue. But any Hunter worth their salt should be able to hear the exchange between Cayde and the Warlock and the fact that Eris has not so much as twitched in their direction, despite being less than a dozen feet down an empty hall, tells Cayde all he needs to know about what kind of night Eris is having. A quiet Eris is a dangerous Eris. No sense in one of Ikora’s students to becoming a casualty.

   “You need me to hold your hand, Guardian? Get back to your room.”

   “Yessir!” The Awoken jolts at Cayde’s verbal push and beats a hasty retreat in the opposite direction; though not without turning back one last time and receiving a particularly fierce stare down from the Exo.

   “Kids,” the Exo mutters for no one’s amusement but his own.

   When he’s sure the Warlock has removed himself, Cayde assesses the situation further. It’s not a page from his usual playbook but he’s completed this particular ‘mission’ often enough to know a good read on the situation might save him from a knife in the robo guts later.

   Eris stands completely immobile with her sharp chin lifted to a degree so severe it makes Cayde want to swallow in sympathy. Any given day, it’s difficult to tell what she stares at with those stolen Acolyte eyes but, here and now, Cayde is certain those three, green orbs see nothing as they stare at the ceiling. Or maybe they see something far beyond. Who is Cayde to judge another Guardian’s hallucinations? Eris’ dark hair, usually coiled up and hidden beneath a two-pointed cap, falls in kinked waves down her back. Her armor has been traded for the plainest white sheath that’s only barely paler than her own flesh. She seems to glow in the faint light of the hall- an old world kind of ghost.

   At least, this time, she seems unarmed.

   Regardless, Cayde approaches slowly and aims for some buoyancy. “Alright, time for bed. Come on, you’re scaring the Warlocks.”

   Cayde doesn’t touch her. The memory is still vivid of his first time with one of Eris’ nighttime excursions; her knife uncomfortably close to piercing his side and his hand wrapped around the business end of the blade, leaking furiously, until he managed to sweep her ankle and wrestle her to the floor while she woke the whole floor with her howling. That was fun to explain to Ikora. Even moreso to Zavala. Instead, Cayde circles round to face Eris and the look there, mouth twisted and teeth clenched, weighs on him heavily. It’s always the same plain cloth that covers her eyes like a blindfold and what little of her brow that is visible above is hiked and scrunched in some terrible emotion. Not the usual gaping stare or feral grimace Cayde has come to recognize in these surreal encounters. This is fear, Cayde eventually realizes. Somehow that is even more unsettling than that perpetual stream of darkness that oozes from behind the female Hunter’s eyes.

   “Are…you alright?’ Cayde tries a little louder. “Are you hurt?”

   Eris does not speak though her lips tremble as if she means to and simply can’t find the words.

   Everyone knows not to suddenly wake a sleeping Guardian- especially one with a background like Eris Morn- but the frozen horror is whispering to the monsters in the corners of Cayde’s own mind and he decides he’d rather risk waking the screaming, clawing demon of a woman than let either of them stew in whatever nightmare has taken hold. Cayde readies himself to lunge away then snaps his fingers close enough to upset the black strands obscuring Eris’ ear.

   Nothing. At least nothing from Morn. The lack of response does snap some final thread of patience that was stretched too taught in Cayde.

   “Damnit, Eris! Eris, you can’t stand out here all night spooking the Guardians! Can’t you keep this shit in your room like the rest of us?”

   It’s unfair. Traveler above, it’s unfair of him to say but the last thing he wants tonight is a living reminder of what broken looks like. She doesn’t even acknowledge his vented frustrations. Just keeps staring at nothing overhead.

   If Eris were awake, she’d chew him out for sure. She’d squint all three eyes and gnash her teeth while she spat out an abridged version of all the legitimate horrors she’d survived only to return to a Tower of fools where she’s constantly being side-eyed and called ‘creepy’ in hushed tones. And Cayde would deserve whatever indignant insult she could dish up in retribution.

   Cayde shakes his head and takes a moment to picture a better version of himself smacking him upside the head. “Damn. Look, I don’t know if you can ever hear me, but I’m sorry. I’m worn out and I know you are too. So let’s get you back to your room. Maybe we can still salvage some of tomorrow’s sanity.”

   The second Cayde gently touches Eris’ white-clothed elbow, she explodes. The pale face snaps down and thin fingers snare the Exo’s forearms.

   “They’re coming!” She hisses, throat strained from being stretched for hell knows how long.  “ _He_ is coming!”

   Cayde swears under a static gasp. Even half suspecting an attack, he’s managed to startle right into the wall. Eris makes no further strike but she digs into his arms until her fingers quake- as if to keep him from running. Totally fair since Cayde’s life support systems are turning over like crazy and his knees already ache from being coiled so tightly in preparation of a flee that never flew. He has to reset his eyes to adjust for Eris’s three alien blinkers right in his face. “Geez! You scared the hell out of me. Now I’ll never sleep again. You’re in the Tower, Eris! No one’s coming. It’s safe.”

   “It’s not safe,” Eris argues with a quiver of vocal chords that dip uncomfortably close to a sob. “None of us are safe.”

   The only thing that makes Cayde’s nonexistent skin crawl more than the ominous warning is the way Eris tracks each nervous twitch of the Exo’s face. She is awake. Though Cayde’s not one-hundred percent sure for how long.

   “Who…uh…who’s coming?” The Exo stands a little straighter and begins to ease Eris’ grip on his sleeves.

   The female Hunter blinks. Her brow furrows above white cloth. She looks Cayde dead in the eye and mutters, “What?”

   Cayde feels his mechanical peepers refocusing again. “You just…the whole ‘he’s coming’ thing? Didn’t you…is one of us dreaming right now?”

   Eris’ face scrunches then falls and her death grip finally breaks so that she can place shaking fingertips to her forehead in what looks like a futile attempt to slay a monster of a headache. She grits her teeth and gasps one choking breath before quieting.

   “What-” the woman flounders “-were we speaking of?”

   This, at last, is a twist Cayde recognizes. He and Ikora have talked about it extensively- the way a brain knows how and when and what’s best to forget. If this is Eris grappling with some memory of her time on the moon, the Hunter Vanguard will do his best to spare one of his own.

   “Nothing, really,” Cayde finally assures after a moment of consideration. “I was just asking if you got locked out of your room again.”

   Eris ponders the floor and then turns to eye her door down the hall. Maybe she senses that’s not quite right. But she never argues the point. Not now, not last week. Hopefully never.

   “Probably just entered the code wrong too many times. I still do that when I’m in a rush,” Cayde continues with a shrug. “Lock should be reset by now. Can I walk you to your room?”

   It’s less than a thirty second walk but still…

   The frown is back. The fingertips are back to the forehead. “No. No that’s unnecessary. I will see to myself.”

   Cayde nods. He even lets her get a few unsteady steps down the hall before he offers a soft, “Goodnight, Eris.”

   She nods as well, a slow and distracted gesture and either forgoes or forgets a responding farewell. It always ends like this. Eris’ bare feet are silent as a grave as she dazedly sets off in the direction of her room. Cayde watches her go not knowing what else he can do for the woman. He doesn’t know if it’s the eyes or if there’s more Hive in her than the Vanguard knows. Or if it’s the human part doing the damage. He certainly doesn’t know what her voices are like or what visions she sees. He has no idea what kind of terrors blindside Eris on her worst days. He does know they’re both a little bit broken and that they’re still _trying._

Cayde watches until the moment Eris seals herself away behind a sliding door and electronic lock. Normally, this is the part where Cayde slinks back to his own room- the meeting of two old ghosts ended for another night. Tonight, Cayde decides that’s no longer good enough.

<> 

   When Eris Morn uncertainly answers a knock at her door only moments after closing it, she is greeted by the eagerly flashing face of an Exo and a large device offered from the cradle of his arms.

“Um. Hey, Eris." Cayde clears his throat and shrugs. "You…ever try white noise?”

 

 


End file.
